Tantrums and Tiaras
by quiffed
Summary: To celebrate the mad holiday rush to the shops, here's a festive fic about Christmas shopping with the puppies.


"Why are we here?" Remus asks for the sixth time, brushing partially melted snow off his shoulders. Remus can see a tuft of Sirius's artfully tousled black hair poking out from behind an enormous pink and purple stuffed giraffe.

"You _know_ why, so that Prongs can seduce Evans with a snazzy Christmas gift." Sirius hands Remus a glowing tiara studded with semi-precious stones. "Try this on, will you?"

Remus places the tiara on his head obediently. The tiara begins to change colour, humming softly. Sirius ducks down to examine a shelf full of miniature cherubim statuettes. As soon as they see him, all the angels burst simultaneously into song. Remus rolls his eyes, exasperated.

"Well, I know why we're _here_," Remus says irritably, trying to make himself heard over the dozens of tiny voices belting out Christmas carols. Sirius is humming along cheerfully to the warbling, which is not helping matters. "I know why we're here, but why are we _here_? In _this particular_ shop? Why not _Honeydukes_, or _Gladrags_, or somewhere else where we won't be deafened by badly-made figurines who can't sing in tune?"

The statues all stop singing abruptly, and some of them make indignant noises. A pudgy Cupid aims his tiny arrow at him in a vaguely threatening manner. Sirius stares at Remus thoughtfully for a few seconds, and then a huge grin breaks out on his face. Remus stares back at his friend, confused and annoyed.

"Moony?"

"What?"

"You _do_ know there's a tiara on your head?"

Remus blushes furiously and removes it. Sirius laughs, and stands up, knocking some fake jewellery onto the floor. Not bothering to pick it up, he makes his way down the crowded aisle, humming the cherubim's song.

"This, Moony, is clearly a girl shop."

"No, this is clearly a_ pink _shop." Remus looks around him with a kind of morbid fascination. He doesn't think he's ever been anywhere quite so ghastly in his life. There are pink stars on the ceiling, and there are pink unicorns and fairies painted on the walls. The carpet is violet, and the shelves are crammed with pink things; talking mirrors, statues, and enchanted toys. The blonde witch at the till is the only non-pink entity apart from him and Sirius; she is dressed entirely in varying shades of puce, and is smoking a bright green cigarette with her eyes closed, probably to block out all the _pink_. Sirius pauses, and turns to face Remus.

"My dear Moony, I concede that there are indeed a few pink items in here."

"A _few _pink items."

"However, girls _like_ pink."

"Not all girls."

"Of _course_ they do."

"No, they don't. Not the ones who are over five years old."

"How would _you_ know?"

Remus opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again. How _would_ he know about girls? Sirius grins triumphantly, and struts over to a bright pink dollhouse. It has frilly mauve curtains and a sky-blue front door. Remus sighs and grabs him roughly by the arm. Some things, he thinks, you don't need to be heterosexual to know are just _wrong_.

"Prongs said we should pick out something nice, something Lily will actually _like_."

"_Prongs_ is at Quidditch practice." Remus's eyebrows shoot upwards. Sirius smiles innocently, and tries to loosen his arm, but Remus has recently acquired a vice-like grip, and an almost regal authority. Sirius hopes it's just an after-effect of the "Feel like a Princess!" tiara, and beams upwards. "I mean to say; Evans will love whatever we get her. I mean, Prongs is great, but he's got no imagination. He lacks creativity. Chocolates? Jewellery? He needs to get something a touch more _personal_."

"And a hooded cape embroidered with the word _Bunnykins_ is, in the eyes of Messr. Black, a touch more personal?" Remus demands, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Sirius shrugs, unconcerned.

"Whatever floats Evans's boat, mate."

"This isn't funny, Pads. I'm going to tell Prongs you're trying to sabotage his relationship with Lily. Don't think I won't."

"You sound like Wormtail, for fuck's sake. Moony, there's nothing _to_ sabotage. She _loathes_ him." Sirius manages to wriggle free of Remus's grip. "But, say, if we _were_ planning to sabotage the non-existent relationship, what atrociously horribly pink thing would you suggest?"

Remus shakes his head wonderingly.

"You are bloody unbelievable."

"And you're a poofy twat. Help me choose a gift."

"Pads-"

"Poofy twat."

"Listen, you –"

"Poofy twat!"

"Not funn-"

"Remus is a poofy twat!"

"You - can't just _win an argument_ by calling me a _poofy twat_!"

There is a pause. Remus licks his lips and glares at Sirius, who stares back at him defiantly. The blonde witch smoking at the till glances at them irritably.

"Boys, keep the noise down."

"Of course," Sirius answers politely, then leans forward to whisper in Remus's ear. "Poooooooofy."

"I think that you are extremely immature." Remus walks over to a large bin containing red and pink stripy headscarves.

"I think that I am charming," Sirius retorts. He glances absentmindedly at the headscarves. "No, not a scarf. Tactless. Tasteless."

"You're looking for trouble," Remus answers, fingering the satiny material.

"No," Sirius breathes. "I'm looking for… _this_."

"Eh? What?" Remus looks at the object Sirius is clasping in his hands. "That's not pink."

"No," Sirius answers, hugging the small wooden box to his chest. "It's not." He turns it over, to check the price. "Three Galleons… I'm getting it! This is _perfect_."

"What is it?" Remus inquires. "A bomb?"

"It's a sort of messed-up _music box_," Sirius replies eagerly, handing Remus the card with the description. "It recites Shakespeare. It sings love songs. It composes sonatas. It's the ultimate gift!"

_Oh Merlin, _Remus thinks slowly, reading and re-reading the amazingly detailed description. _This is so bad, it's good._

"If James gives it to her, it'll kind of _absorb_ his feelings about her, and put them into words. It'll tell her stuff like… like that utter crap he spouted about her hair when he was really drunk, do you remember?"

_Her hair,_ Remus remembers. _Her hair, it gleams like _gold _when the sun hits it. Like a ray of sunshine. Her… her hair. And it smells… like strawberries. Huge, ripe red strawberries. It's so edible…_

_Lily,_Remus realises, _is going to love this. It's so _James_. It's so over the top and extravagant and clueless. It's perfect._

"It's perfect," Sirius mumbles. Remus looks at him archly.

"Pads, are you insane? You can't get this monstrosity –"

"Oh, it _is_ perfect!" Sirius flings his arm round Remus with jubilation and kisses him enthusiastically on the mouth. This is not an uncommon occurrence. "I _knew_ if you hated it it'd be the thing, the thing that I had to get…"

Sirius scrambles over to the counter and presses three Galleons into the blonde witch's palm. She glares at him, and not taking the cigarette out of her mouth, bites down on one of the coins to check that it's real.

"You get twenny percent off on your next purchase. D'you want a receipt?" she growls, glaring at Remus, who is standing just behind Sirius, pretending to protest weakly at the music box. The blonde witch hands Sirius a 20 off voucher with some reluctance, eyeing Remus warily.

"Yes, _thanks_ - keep the change!" Sirius grabs Remus's arm painfully and yanks him towards the door. The blonde witch snarls, knowing all too well that there is no change, and pockets the Galleons furtively.

"Get out, you delinquents. Don't come back."

When they are standing outside in the icy street, Remus pauses to let his eyes adjust to the complete colour contrast. There is a distinct lack of pink - the fuchsia has been replaced by a blanket of white. Remus suddenly remembers that he ought to criticise the music box again.

"Pads, you're returning it. Buying something else. It's _horrible_."

"It's beautiful," Sirius sing-songs, cradling the music box in his elbow. "Lily will love it."

_Yes, she will,_ Remus agrees silently. Aloud he remarks,

"All you have to get now is my present. I hope you haven't been missing the not-so-subtle hints I've been dropping about-"

"Poetry books, yes." Sirius shushes. "You'll get something you want, don't worry."

"Would you mind just _telling_ me the book you're going to buy?" Remus asks curiously. "Only I'd hate to get something I've already read, or –"

"Moony! Give it a _rest_," Sirius exclaims, starting off down the snow-covered pavement. "Your Christmas present will definitely be all brand new."

Remus frowns slightly, then follows Sirius, reassured. He blows hot air on his hands to warm them, shivering a little at the chill in the air.

_Ha,_ Sirius thinks gleefully. _Now he'll be_ really _surprised when I get him that glowing tiara_


End file.
